ee. It’s Complicated.

                I heard a terrifying roar. A Screech. A growl. A vicious threat from an aggressive cat. Pouncing. About to chew my leg off. Massive claws. My face. A tiger. That tiger. Dragged across the ground; my head bouncing. Helpless to defend myself. Grasping at submissive dirt. Digging in; heels trying to gain a foothold and make a stand against the attacking cat.

                I awoke on the tree’s platform. Unharmed. The aliens were gone. I was alone in the tree. Shaken, but without a wound. I looked at my legs. No blood. No cuts. No dirt. I was fine. I’d been abducted? I think I have been abducted. The tiger is not real. The abduction was. I know it. I think I know it.

Premonition of the literal.

                A Screech. A growl. A vicious aggressive cat. Threatening to chew my leg off. My face. A tiger. That tiger.

I looked down from the tree’s platform. There he was at the base of the tree. That saber tooth! Looking straight up at me! The hair raised on the back of my neck. I was to kill the tiger. The spear. The spear. The face of the tiger! His lean stretch placed his claws almost within reach of the platform. He must have been at least seven feet long. Longer than I am tall. And his outstretched paws could claim this platform with a single swipe and destroy it. I would fall to the peril of death.

                I took a spear; hardened my grip and thrust the spear down at the face of the tiger. The first thrust tore a hole in his face through the fur. The stone spearhead came loose. Dangled. I stabbed at him again and he recoiled. It was a miss. I saw blood covering his face. The jab took harm to the tiger’s eye. He was furious. That had to hurt. I threw the spear at him. I missed. The tiger ran. His eye socket torn. He needed recovery. He was bloodied but I knew he would be back. I would remember him as the One-Eyed tiger. Out for revenge.

                How could it be revenge? I simply defended myself. Revenge for what? He attacked me. What should I have done to please him? Just be his meal? That’s all. The revenge of that tiger wasn’t revenge. His actions were the same as the men of war who claim it’s revenge for something that hurt their pride to begin with. The tiger would not eat this prey.

                Silence reigned for the moment. I took a deep breath. My body still shaking. I still had two spears left and a hatchet in this tree’s platform and the platform was still intact. I await the tiger. Inspect the spearheads. Why the weapon came loose, the spearhead from the spear? I didn’t know. The remaining chiseled spearheads was fastened to the spears tightly. I couldn’t see any flaw. Nothing more I knew to do.

                More commotion. Voices. People. Men. I heard men’s voices. The tiger. They saw the tiger. Perhaps they were hunting the tiger. From the tree’s platform I saw them approaching. I took firm grip on a spear. The tiger appeared in my view. He was running away. The opposite direction. He would not attack four men. Me plus three. Not today. I did not know if these men however were friendly, or out to rob and kill me.

                Three men. They came to the clearing below me. They saw me. They stood still. Staring. They all had spears. One of them had a bow. They did not raise the spears nor draw the bow. They just stared. I held my spear firmly.

                One of them called out to me. Come down. You fought the tiger alone and he ran. He will not return today. Come down. Be with us. It is not safe to be alone.

                This was my opportunity to break from this tree and learn where I am. Lowering the spear, I waved. I took the hatchet and dropped it to the ground. I dropped the spear to the ground then descended the tree. Gathering my weapons, I approached the three men. They were primitive. Dressed like me.

                “You do not recall anything. Do you,” said one of them.

                “I don’t know. I recall many things. But I don’t recall everything. I am a stranger here.”

                The primitive asked, “Do you know who I am?”

                Shaking my head, “No.”

                A moment of silence. The man gazes at me. He studies my eyes. He looks at my weapons. My feet. “I am your father. Jared. You have been gone for many days. I know you were with the Watchers. We saw the lights.”

                “So, the abduction was real.”

                Jared said, “Sit.” He looked at his companions and said to them, “Make a fire.” He chose an area near the lean-to and sat on the ground. He laid his bow beside him. The spear he set in the dirt; standing. The other two men proceeded to stack stubble and wood to create a fire.

                My father? Hardly. I think I would know my own father. I just finished telling him that I am not from this land. A stranger. But, then again. I’m sixty. An old white man. And I don’t look sixty. I presently have a beard. Long hair. I am in an unknown place so maybe this body is the son to Jared. I’ll play along with it. Do I have a good reason not to?

                Jared continued, “Her name is Edni, the daughter of Danel, the daughter of my brother. Your cousin. She is your wife. In the sixth year in this week she bares a son. Methuselah. He is your son. You do not remember. Do you. Prophecy fulfilled.”

                The fire burns and the men are laughing at my confusion. As if I suffer from amnesia.

                I reply, “I recall many things. But I don’t recall any of that. I don’t know of a wife, or a son of my own.”

                My newly acquired father restores my heritage that evening by the camp fire. “Adam knew Eve his wife and she bare yet nine sons... And in the fifth week of the fifth jubilee Seth took 'AzCira his sister to be his wife, and in the fourth (year of the sixth week) she bare him Enos. And in the seventh jubilee in the third week Enos took Noam his sister to be his wife, and she bare him a son in the third year of the fifth week, and he called his name Kenan. And at the close of the eighth jubilee Kenan took Mualeleth his sister to be his wife, and she bare him a son in the ninth jubilee, in the first week in the third year of this week, and he called his name Mahalalel. And in the second week of the tenth jubilee Mahalalel took unto him to wife Dinah, the daughter of Baraki el the daughter of his father's brother, and she, she is your Grandmother. She bares him a son in the third week in the sixth year. I am that son. I am Jared. Your father. And this is your family tree.”

                “You speak of an abduction? In my days the angels of the Lord descended on our earth, those who are named the Watchers, that they should instruct us, the children of men. That they should do judgment and uprightness on the earth. And in the eleventh jubilee I Jared took myself a wife, and her name is Baraka, the daughter of Easujal, a daughter of his father's brother, in the fourth week of this jubilee, and she bare me a son in the fifth week, in the fourth year of the jubilee. My son. Enoch. You are my son.”

                “Enoch. The first among men that are born on earth to learn writing. The knowledge and wisdom to write down the signs of heaven according to the order of their months in a book, that men might know the seasons of the years according to the order of their separate months.” [1]

                Jared points to the stacks of papyrus in the lean-to. The pots. The brushes. The ink. You have tools. You have wisdom from the watchers. Do you remember?”

                I reply, “I recall. I don’t know how, but I recall.”

                Jared continues, “Until this day, our history is merely word-of-mouth. Adam does not speak much. Nor can he handle long visitations from his sons. He does not write. He prefers to be alone. He does not like to see death. He does not like to see his sons grow old. He has led a life with much grief. Much sorrow. Much guilt. Much shame. It is difficult for me to understand his ways. And why it is; that way. I don’t know what he did. What he lost. The view into his lost land, beautiful Eden. You, Enoch will tell the story we must know.”

                “You will write a testimony, and testify to the sons of men among the generations of Earth, and recount the weeks of the jubilees, and make known to us the days of the years, and set in order the months and recount the Sabbaths of the years as we made (them), known to him.”

I am Trainman.

Journal: Ancient Mission.

I began to collect an understanding of what Jared was speaking of. It began to make some sense. What was and what will be I saw in a vision of sleep, as it will happen to the children of men throughout our generations until the day of judgment. I saw and understood everything, and write a testimony of it. Place the testimony on earth for all the generations. Lest we forget.

By, Trainman.

                We ate. Rabbit, cooked over the camp fire. We drank water. We slept on the ground with no fear since we were four strong men.